Desperate Measures
by MCmondo
Summary: He'd had his fair share of death threats. But, when it came to his family being endangered, drastic action could often be needed. Tony-centric, T/Z family one-shot with a dashing of Gibbs.
**Another idea/ plot line that I'd been toying with in my head for a while. It's probably a bit silly. More Tony-centric than anything else, but there is still some T/Z family stuff. Ziva's not part of NCIS in this btw, just in case that isn't clear.
**

* * *

He'd had death threats before—and lots of them, too—so he didn't panic. Not initially, anyway. More often than not, these threats proved to be little more than words. A scare tactic by a desperate criminal with nothing to lose, or a shouted utterance by a convicted felon being dragged away in cuffs. He rarely batted an eyelid, and why should he, really? If he panicked and gave in to fear every time someone wished death upon him, he'd spend his whole life having one really long nervous breakdown. After all, he had an important job and an even more important team that relied on him at all times. He needed to remain as calm as possible.

But today was different.

The threat was real. Painfully and scarily real. Real enough to have him genuinely terrified in the face of it. It wasn't that he had no experience of dealing with things like this—he'd had _more_ than his fair share of endangerment at the hands of psychotic bad guys over his life. No, it was simply that he had way more to lose these days. So, you could threaten his life all you wanted, and he would keep his cool. But, when it came to his family…

Just the thought of it was enough to make him floor it. The car full of agents behind him must have struggled to keep up with him, but leading the convoy was the least of his worries. When he pulled into his drive, he must have been out of the car and into the house in under five seconds. He practically stumbled into the hallway, and he felt his head spin and stomach twist at the gravity of the situation for the first time.

''ZIVA!'' he yelled breathlessly. ''ZIVA!''

She appeared from the nursery with a half-worried, half annoyed expression. ''What is it, Tony?''

''We've got to get out of here,'' he said as calmly as possible, which was still panicky and rushed. ''Where's Lena?''

He could see the level of concern within her rise, along with the confusion. ''I just put her down for her nap. What is going on?''

''Pack a few days' worth of stuff,'' he told her as he stepped towards the bedroom. ''We've got to get you guys to a safe house.''

He heard her footsteps as she followed him, but he didn't explain anything further as he rifled through the cupboards to find anything her and the baby might need. Ziva's eyes burned into him as he tried his best not to shake, and when she spoke she sounded almost as scared as he felt. ''Tony, please tell me what's happening.''

He stopped and stood fully again. After a heavy sigh, he was calm enough to talk. ''Some guys are coming after me,'' he said, spinning to face her. His heart broke at the look of panic in her eyes. ''And I think they're willing to come after you, too, if it means getting to me.'' He chucked a small suitcase on to the bed. ''So I need to get you guys somewhere safe. Right now.''

She swallowed with a frown. ''Who—''

''That doesn't matter right now, and I'm sorry to spring this on you, Ziva,'' his voice was wavering slightly now. ''But please just trust me, okay?'' Her panic and confusion was still clear as day, but she gave him a small nod. ''Go and get Lena. Put all her stuff in the bag, and the agents will bring it with them to the safe house.''

''Agents?''

''Please!?'' She jumped slightly, and he closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. ''Please just do this. I want you guys safe before I explain everything. Okay?'' She was still frozen to the spot, and rigid, so he approached her and placed a gentle hand of her shoulder. ''You might have to be scared and confused for a while, and I'm sorry about that. I really am. But I promise you that everything's going to be okay as long as you do this for me.''

She held his gaze for a few more seconds, but eventually nodded again. ''Okay.''

Minutes later, the car was loaded with anything essential. Tony slammed the trunk, reminded the agents of their orders one last time, and turned to the doorway just as Ziva emerged with their daughter at her hip. Despite everything—imminent threat of death, sheer panic and fear, overriding sense of desperation—he found himself smiling. Lena's sleepy eyes found his face, and she let out a little squeal of delight.

''Hey, sweetie,'' he cooed, stepping over to kiss her pudgy hand. ''Did you just get rudely awakened from your nap?'' She gurgles and lifts her other hand to bite on her fist. ''I know,'' he nodded with exaggeration. ''I know it's not fair, and Daddy's really sorry about that.'' He leaned closer to her in order to kiss her forehead. ''I'll make it up to you, though. I promise.''

Ziva still looked scared when he looked back to her. ''Daddy has some explaining to do,'' she said quietly, worriedly, as her brow furrowed with concern.

''I'll explain everything,'' he lied. ''Just get in the car. Come on.''

He took hold of Lena and carried her over to the vehicle, while Ziva climbed into the other side and strapped herself into the middle seat. He gently secured his daughter in to her baby seat, and smiled again as she gargled in her own strange language. He kissed her again, and nuzzled her little face for a few seconds, taking in the heart-warming smell of baby-powder and Ziva. It was a mixture that usually overwhelmed him with joy, and made him feel safe, but this time his stomach twisted again when he realised that everything he was fighting for was sat in this car. Everything he was willing to die for.

Tears were welling in his eyes before he could fight them off. ''Be good for your mama, princess,'' he whispered thickly. ''Daddy loves you more than anything.''

He looked up to see Ziva on the verge of tears, too. ''Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye?''

After a sniffle, he leaned over to give her a long, warm kiss. ''I love you, too. Be safe.''

''You are coming with us. Right?'' she breathed against him. After another deep breath he shook his head. ''Tony, I will not let you run off and—''

''I have to do this,'' he insisted.

Her eyes were wide, and there was fire beneath the fear. ''What are you planning? You cannot do this alone.''

The fury was building up inside her, he could tell. He just hoped her maternal instincts overshadowed it so she didn't come chasing after him later. ''I won't be alone.'' He kissed her again. ''I just need you guys to be as far away from the firing line as possible.''

She reached up to grip his shirt. ''And what about you? Are you going to just walk right into it?''

That was more or less the plan, but he wasn't about to discuss it in any detail. It would only scare her more. He took hold of her hand and gently pulled it off his shirt, lifting it to his mouth for a brief kiss. ''This isn't goodbye,'' he promised.

She didn't look like she was buying it. ''Please don't do this,'' she begged.

More tears burned his eyes and throat, but he still let go of her hand and looked at his daughter's blissfully oblivious face. He was glad she wasn't old enough to have any clue about what was happening. It protected her from fear, and that was all he ever wanted for her: a life of peace, a life free from fear. He kissed her cheek one last time. ''I'll see you again soon, my little angel.''

''Tony!'' Ziva called after him as he stood back and went to shut the car door. And he could see her unstrap her seat belt and get ready to chase after him, but an agent sat down on the seat next to her and effectively blocked her in. All of a sudden, this was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life.

''I'm so sorry,'' he said brokenly, before shutting the door and thumping the roof twice. The driver needed no further signalling, and his family were sped off towards safety in a split-second. He swallowed hard, and stared after them for what felt like forever. He missed them already—literally _missed_ both of them.

But time was of the essence, and he had to make his move.

His cell phone was already ringing, and he knew it was Ziva even before he read her name on the screen. He hated himself for doing this to her, and once again cursed these bastards that had the nerve to threaten his family. With a heavy heart, he hung up and turned the phone off. He then turned around and went back into the house. Once inside, he found himself sat at the kitchen table and staring silently at the picture of him and Ziva with the new-born Lena that was pinned to the fridge. After more heartache, he reached into his pocket to retrieve an entirely different and a much less treasured picture.

When he got to his feet again, he walked over to the fridge and swapped the photographs over. He allowed himself a brief smile as he looked down at an exhausted looking Ziva holding their bundle of joy, before he pocketed it. After another heavy sigh, he pulled out the burner phone he'd bought earlier that day and dialled the number he'd made himself memorise. Well, he was technically ordered to memorise it, but he was more than happy to do so. It was the first time he'd ever had to call it, though, and he wasn't surprised when the gruff voice that answered him sounded slightly surprised.

''DiNozzo?''

He swallowed. ''Boss, I need your help.''

Gibbs had made him promise to only use this number for emergencies, so the older man must have already known something bad was going down. ''How serious is it?''

''Very.''

There was a shuffle on the other end of the line. ''Ziva and the baby?''

He swallowed back tears again. ''Safe now.''

''What's the plan?''

Tony lifted his hand to scratch his head. ''I was hoping you'd help me with that part.''

Gibbs grunted slightly. ''Where?''

He felt relief flood him, not that he expected his old mentor to abandon him in a time of need. With a puff of his cheeks, he looked back to the fridge and the picture he'd just stuck on there. It was a familiar little cabin out in the woods, and he couldn't think of any place better to carry out his plan—well, _half_ plan, really—than their own territory. Gibbs must have known that area like the back of his hand.

''When was the last time you went fishing?'' he asked Gibbs.

He could almost hear the nod. ''I'll meet you there.''

* * *

Gibbs didn't bother shaving anymore, and a neat-ish beard accompanied the thinning white hair that lay on top of his head. A strong gust of wind assaulted the fallen leaves as he stepped out of his truck, as if mother nature herself wanted to outline the significance of the former marine's arrival. It howled across the lake and hit Tony's face like an icy slap. Even the weather insisted on punishing him for letting it all come to this. It seemed to have dropped a degree with every minute since he sent his family away. Gibbs, too, looked like he wanted to roll back the years with a sharp head-slap, but luckily he settled for a far less painful nod of greeting.

''I thought when I retired I'd be avoiding all this crap.''

There never was time for pleasantries, but Tony could see beyond the act, and even smiled slightly. ''I'm sorry for dragging you back in.''

He shook his head. ''Don't apologise.''

''Some of the rules retired with you.''

The slight narrowing of the eyes was as familiar as it was unnerving. Classic Gibbs. ''I know,'' he nodded again. ''But you still don't have to apologise for keeping your family safe.''

He sighed as they both stepped towards the cabin. ''I didn't have to make the call, though.''

''And I didn't have to answer, DiNozzo, but here I am.''

* * *

The temperature dropped to an unbearable level as the sun fell over the horizon. Luckily for Tony, Gibbs was far better at getting a fire going than he ever had been, and the inside of the cabin had a soft orange glow to it by the time darkness had fallen. Tony just sat by it nervously, poking the embers and logs with a metal stick, trying—and failing miserably—to take his mind off Ziva, and how angry she must have been at him by now. She probably understood why he was doing this, but there was no way she liked it, and he honestly never expected her to.

''I assume you left something at your house to lead them here,'' Gibbs spoke up—for the first time in what seemed like hours, incidentally.

A burning log crumbled as he stabbed it with the poker. ''I left a picture on the fridge.''

Tony caught the nod in his peripheral vision. ''How long do we have?''

He frowned. ''I don't know exactly.''

''Rough estimation?''

After further contemplation, he gave Gibbs a shrug. ''I'd be surprised if they weren't here by the morning.''

Gibbs turned to stare out the window for a few moments. ''In that case, let's get the steaks on the grill.''

Tony chuckled at the back of Gibbs' head. ''I like the way you think, boss.''

''I'm not your boss anymore,'' he was reminded. ''He'd be the one that'll have your ass if you survive this.''

There really was no point trying to argue his case because Gibbs had pulled stunts like this countless times. ''Vance was expecting me to come back to the Navy Yard,'' he explained.

Gibbs didn't sound surprised that this was all very unofficial. ''Uh-huh,'' he said as he got to his feet. ''Why didn't you?''

Tony shrugged again. ''Desperate times, right? I want this to be over as fast as possible. With no other people I care about being caught in the crossfire.''

Gibbs opened the door winced slightly. A cold wind swarmed into the room like an invisible avalanche, invading any province waving the flag for warmth and comfort, save for the fire at Tony's feet. The flames stuttered and stumbled, but held firm as they licked at his jeans, and they remained resolute until the Gibbs had slipped out to face the elements and shut the door behind him. It was both the calm before the storm, and the calm after it, as he waited for his companion to re-emerge. He couldn't help but notice the symbolism. He honestly wasn't sure which storm he was more afraid of, though: the murderers who want him dead, or his wife who…

Well, maybe she'd be ready to stab him with a sharp object by the time he saw her, too.

He was once again attacked by the weather that besieged the cabin, but it was worth the shivers when he saw the pack of beer in Gibbs' hand. A cold beverage appealed to him almost as much as the steaks did, and he took one eagerly when it was offered. He popped the cap off using the edge of the fireplace and lifted the bottle to his lips. This time the icy-coolness was more than welcome as he swallowed his first gulp.

''How'd Ziva take all this?''

He wasn't expecting much chit-chit from his former boss, but he suspected that Gibbs just wanted to catch up on his surrogate daughter. It had been far too long since they last saw each other, after all—a fact that pissed Tony off somewhat. ''Badly,'' he answered eventually. ''But I spared her the details.''

Gibbs nodded, and his expression softened considerably. ''And what about Lena? How's she doing?''

Tony smiled when he thought about his daughter, something he could never quite help. ''She's getting really big now,'' he explained proudly. ''Seems to be more beautiful every day, and she's crawling now, too. I think she's getting pretty close to her first words as well, but that's not surprising, her being a DiNozzo and all.'' He notices the way Gibbs' eyes fall to the floor, and if he didn't know any better he would have sworn he saw a flash of guilt. ''You should come see her some time. I know Ziva would like that.''

Gibbs sighed. ''I'm pretty sure she's pissed at me.''

''Lena? You've gotta be kidding.''

Gibbs rolled his eyes. ''I was talking about your wife, numb-nuts.''

He knew that, of course, but he couldn't help himself. ''Over what? The fact that you haven't spoken to us in months?'' He raised his eyebrows when Gibbs looked back up at him. ''I'm pretty angry about that, too, but you should still be part of our lives.''

''Is that what you both want?'' Gibbs asked.

Tony nodded without hesitation. ''Of course.''

''Thought I might have burned that bridge.''

''You haven't,'' Tony assured him. ''Ziva misses you, boss. She won't say it, but I can just tell.'' He pointed his fire-poker at him accusingly. ''And I don't think it's fair to her that you just stopped being there.'' He swallowed hard when a desperately sad expression flashed across Gibbs' face for the briefest of moments. ''I mean, you're like a father to her, you know that?''

Gibbs simply shook his head, as if trying to justify his recent estrangement. ''She has other priorities.''

''You're right,'' Tony nodded sternly. ''She does. But I don't think you do.''

His words seemed to sink in, and another heavy sigh escaped the tight jaw of Gibbs. The jaw that spent so much time clamped shut. But, after a few heavy seconds, he was willing to speak again. ''I'll reach out after this is over,'' he said, seemingly honestly, as he got back to his feet and picked up a bag with two rather large chunks of meat in it.

Tony was happy to hear that. ''Good. What exactly is this?''

''A trap.''

Suitably vague, but Tony knew what he was getting at. ''And we're the bait, I'm guessing.''

Gibbs shot him a narrow-eyed look as he slapped the steaks onto the grill over the fire. ''It's your plan, DiNozzo.''

''My plan went as far as meeting you,'' Tony admitted.

''But you still had this in mind, didn't you?''

He had to chuckle. ''Pretty much.''

Smoke rose as the steaks started to sizzle, and the smell of it was enough to kick Tony's previously asleep stomach back into life. It started grumbling and whining in an attempt to appeal and protest against its inexplicable emptiness. His mouth was watering, and no amount of beer helped until he'd sat down and absolutely annihilated his food. He even enjoyed the small amount of salad that Gibbs added to his plate. Afterwards, he could at least cross hunger off his long list of problems.

* * *

He didn't really sleep. And, honestly, how could he? He was lying on a wooden floor with nothing but a sleeping bag and a tiny pillow. One roll to the right and he was stabbed by a million tiny splinters, one roll to the left and he was facing the fire—which, as appreciated as it was, remained far too bright and warm to sleep right in front of. That left him with very few positional options, his best one being to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling. When it came to his comfort, it was the best of a bad situation, but that didn't help him find sleep. It still wasn't home. It still wasn't his big, comfy bed, and the fire definitely didn't provide the same warmth and comfort that Ziva did. It was the only visible beacon of hope in his life right then, but his family would always shine much brighter.

And that was it, really. Cold floors and sharp splinters aside, that was the real reason he wasn't going to sleep. Guilt and fear ate away at him. Like the termites he was sure lay a few feet beneath him, slowly gnawing, gnawing, gnawing away until enough damage had been caused to make everything collapse. He just hoped he would hold out as long as the cabin did.

So he lay there, still and awake, watching as the flames casted shadows across the beams above him. It was a slow tango, and the ceiling was the dancefloor, as the dark silhouettes flickered and writhed against each other without the need for an actual soundtrack. It was just the crackling of the fire, the howling of the wind and the sound of his breathing. And it brought about an onslaught of feelings, both familiar and unfamiliar. The fear and guilt remained, but they had been pushed back—albeit, on a temporary basis—in favour of an oddly peaceful sensation. The dancing shadows had him in a trance, a state of mind deep enough to make him forget about his troubles for the time being.

It wasn't relaxation, per se, but it was certainly a vast improvement.

* * *

''What sort of firepower have we got?'' he asked in the morning.

Gibbs gave him a shrug of his lips and gestured to the wooden crate in the corner. With just a small amount of trepidation, Tony hauled the tarpaulin off of it. The old hinges creaked as he opened the lid, and his eyes went wide at what he saw inside.

''Enough,'' Gibbs answered eventually.

Tony scoffed, taking in the sniper, the automatic rifle, the magnum and the explosives. ''I'll say.''

''I get the sniper.''

He turned to Gibbs with a one eyebrow raised. ''You won't hear me protesting.''

A small smirk appeared amongst the white facial hair. ''We haven't got long.''

''What's the plan?'' Tony asked, receiving a brief look of irritation for his words. ''Specifically.''

Gibbs got to his feet and joined him in front of the crate, reaching in to pick up a small pack of C4. ''How attached are you to your car?''

Tony frowned. ''I make a point of not growing attached to any of my cars anymore.''

''Good.''

* * *

They arrived at dawn. Gibbs spotted movement from his vantage point—the thickly wooded hillside looking over the cabin and towards the lake—and held up his fingers towards Tony's position. From behind the fallen tree at the shore of the lake, Tony nodded. Five men, apparently. He assumed they were heavily armed, but he also was strangely confident that he and Gibbs could take them on. Anyway, if everything was timed right, they might not have to fire a shot.

He noticed two men approach the cars, and three more moving around the sides to form a perimeter. They were in prime firing-squad position, and sure enough, the sound of automatic gunfire echoed through the woods moments later as their bullets started to rip the cabin apart. Tony glanced up to see splinters flying as the front of the building more or less disintegrated. He winced with sympathy, and made a mental note to reimburse Gibbs in some way after this was over. But, firstly, it had to be over.

After a short while, the gunfire stopped. What unnerved him further, though, was the fact that he could hear the sound of an engine approaching. A dark SUV appeared between the tree trunks, before it pulled up right beside the DiNozzo-mobile. Two more men got out of it, including one man Tony thought could well be the ring leader. If this was the guy orchestrating all this chaos, then there might not be a better opportunity to take him down.

Two men went in to the cabin, just as Tony and Gibbs had hoped, and that was when it was time to make their own move in this unconventionally deadly game of chess. The leader looked around at the surroundings, and Tony sharply cursed himself and ducked when he was spotted. He heard a shout just before bullets started fizzing past him and peppering his cover. Before he could be harmed, however, a loud explosion shook the very soil he was squatted on. There went his car, but at least it took theirs with it.

He lifted his rifle and started firing at the any of the men still standing, and he was relieved to see the two men in the cabin getting hit by sniper fire before they could even step off the porch. A few hostile bullets were still emerging from the other side of the burning carcass of the vehicles, though, and Tony felt a sharp burn sting his left shoulder. He fell back behind the cover with a hiss and a groan, but he knew it was only a graze.

Another shot from Gibbs, and then silence fell.

He peaked over the tree, that had done its duty as his bullet-shield for the most part, and saw the leader crawling towards an abandoned rifle. He was clearly wounded, but after another loud bang, he was put out of his misery. Gibbs certainly hadn't lost his accuracy. In fact, Tony wasn't sure a single one of their fallen foes died at his own hands, such was the ruthless efficiency of the Marine Corps scout sniper.

His shoulder hurt, but he'd weathered the storm.

* * *

''Vance is pretty mad,'' McGee told him.

The senior field agent stood in front of the ambulance, looking at Tony with what looked like admonishment. Tony winced as the medic dabbed his small wound. ''What else is new?''

McGee smiled slightly at that. ''You and Gibbs made a hell of a mess.''

''It was mostly Gibbs.''

A small scoff escaped the younger man. ''Of course it was.''

He looked around at the carnage. He'd lost another car, Gibbs had lost his cabin, and they'd both pissed off a lot of people. But he was still far more relieved than anything else. Not to mention itching to see Ziva and Lena. When he looked back to McGee, he found his old friend giving him a narrow-eyed look of curiosity. He wasn't sure what warranted such scrutiny.

''What?''

McGee gestured to the burning cars behind him. ''How long did you have that one?''

Tony frowned. ''The car?''

''Yeah.''

It was a strange question, but he still found himself contemplating it. ''I don't know. A few years, maybe. Why?''

McGee shrugged. ''No reason. It's just me and Abby kind of had this bet…'' he trailed off when Tony gave him a mildly offended glare. ''It doesn't matter. Forget I asked.''

He narrowed his eyes for a second, but let it slide. ''Have you spoken to Ziva?''

McGee's face softened slightly. ''She's called me about twenty times. Apparently you weren't answering.''

Tony winced. ''Did she sound mad?''

''Oh, yeah,'' McGee nodded. ''But mostly just worried.''

A heavy sigh left Tony's mouth. ''I suppose I better go talk to her. I need to start kissing some serious ass.''

McGee made a disgusted face. ''I really hope you don't mean that literally.''

He chuckled. ''No.''

''Good,'' McGee said in relief. ''I'm glad I'm not you right now.''

Tony raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. ''I think the firefight we just had will seem like a walk in the park in comparison to what Ziva's going to do to me.''

''I'll make sure I'm far away from that conversation when it happens.''

Tony winced again. ''Maybe I was better off dead.''

''You almost were,'' Gibbs voice cut in, just as he appeared from the side of the ambulance. ''You shouldn't have let yourself get spotted like that.''

Tony rolled his eyes. ''Well, we can't all be perfect, boss.''

''Don't I know it,'' Gibbs smirked slightly. ''Go home to your wife and kid, DiNozzo.''

* * *

When he eventually got back to his house, he was even more nervous than he had been at any stage over the past few days. Hurricane Ziva had the potential to flatten him, and anything else in its path for that matter. He was actually surprised not to find himself on his ass as soon as he stepped through the front door. But, no, it was still and quiet. The only thing he could hear was the heart-breaking laughter of Lena, and he found himself smiling as he followed the noise.

He found them in the master bedroom, with Ziva kneeling down by the bed and softly humming a Hebrew nursery rhythm that he vaguely recognised. Lena sat in front of her, waving her little arms and giggling as she played with her mother's hair. The sight nearly floored him. They were safe and sound. They _all_ were, and for some reason it hadn't really hit him until then.

Lena eyes swung to him, and she smiled and gave him her own version of a greeting. Ziva turned her head and her face fell. He wasn't sure if he was about to see the full extent of her fury, or if she was happy to see him, that was how unreadable her expression was. She got to her feet, and although he still didn't know what to expect, he was delighted to see her face soften considerably when she approached him.

She still thumped him on the shoulder, though—his good one, luckily—before throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. He was both scared and confused, but they were both familiar feelings, so he didn't mind. Almost as familiar, in fact, as the smell of her hair and the softness of her body against his. It was so familiar that he had to close his eyes against the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

''You are an idiot,'' she whispered against his neck.

He smirked, knowing that he was safe to do so as long as she couldn't see it. ''I know.''

She pulled back to give him a quick kiss. ''I would have made you sorry if you had died.''

He frowned at the lack of logic, but didn't bother addressing it. ''You're not mad?''

''Yes,'' she assured him.

''Really? I was expecting to be stabbed by a toothbrush or something.''

She narrowed her eyes. ''Don't temp me.''

He smiled again, and leaned down to kiss her. He made sure it was long and warm, an attempt to ground her. Well, maybe it was more of an attempt to ground him, really, but it was a gesture of love all the same. Her gaze had softened even more by the time he was done, and there even seemed to be the beginnings of tears in her eyes. ''I need a new car,'' he told her.

Her face fell again. ''Again?!''

''It was Gibbs' fault.''

She rolled her eyes. ''Of course it was.''

Lena made some strange squealing noises in protest at her lack of attention, which brought both her parents' eyes back to her. She crawled towards them, and Tony swiftly stepped forward to catch her before she fell onto the floor.

''Woah there, little monkey,'' he said lightly. Lena grabbed hold of his shirt and stared up at him, another high-pitched noise of content escaping her mouth. ''Someone's chatty today.''

''I think she missed you,'' Ziva said from over his shoulder.

He kissed Lena's cheek. ''Is that right? Did you miss Daddy?'' Her little face lit up as she smiled up at him, but her eyes started to droop. ''I missed you, too, princess.''

''I think she needs a nap,'' Ziva said softly. ''She didn't like being away from home last night.''

Tony sighed, and sent Ziva brief look of apology. ''Me neither.''

She ran her hand over his chest soothingly. ''You look like you need a nap, too.''

''Yeah.''

She leaned over to kiss Lena on the forehead. ''We all do, don't we?'' Lena gurgled again, forcing a chuckle out of her. ''That's right.''

''Will you be joining us?'' Tony asked her.

She nodded.

He sent her a look of trepidation. ''You're not going to strangle me in my sleep, are you?''

''I did not sleep much last night, either,'' she explained. ''And you are the father of my child, Tony,'' she reminded him.

He nodded. ''Right. So…That's a no?''

She chuckled, much to his relief. ''I don't want to strangle you. But that may change if I don't get some rest soon.''

He gave her a smile and another kiss. ''Then let's do that.''

* * *

His own bed was far more comfortable than he remembered. Maybe he was still comparing it the cabin floor, or maybe he was just more tired than usual. Whatever the reason was, he was on the verge of sleep within seconds. His daughter was tucked up between him and Ziva, and he was surrounded by their smell and warmth. Not for the first time, he thanked the world for their presence in his life, and wondered what the hell he ever did before he had them. He supposed he spent a lot of time doing the same things he still did: protecting people and ensuring his family's survival.

Only now his family was far more precious than ever before, and he needed to fight even harder to keep them safe.

He really did have more to live for these days, and he was happy to prove that to his enemies whenever they felt the need to threaten him.

* * *

 **Yeah...not too sure about this one. Oh well, I just wanted to see how it would look as a one-shot. Hope you liked it.**


End file.
